


bruised and broken from our head on collision

by ladyofdecember



Category: The Venture Bros
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Injury, Blood of the Father Heart of Steel, M/M, No Sergeant Hatred, The family that slays together stays together, mentions of medical procedures, season 4
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-07-15 16:02:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16066550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofdecember/pseuds/ladyofdecember
Summary: An AU take on the episode Blood of the Father Heart of Steel. Brock never leaves the compound and is instead nursed back to health by Rusty rather than the O.S.I. In another words, a take on, what if Brock never left in season 4?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [danvssomethingorother](https://archiveofourown.org/users/danvssomethingorother/gifts).



> I want to thank @danvssomethingorother on Tumblr for their amazing prompt! "At the end of the family slays together, Rusty taking care of Brock and nursing him back to health instead of the OSI." So, this is for you! Hope you like it!
> 
> "Slightly bruised and broken  
> From our head on collision  
> I've never seen this side of you  
> Another tragic case of feeling  
> Bruised and broken  
> From our head on collision  
> I've never seen this side of you  
> Another tragic case"  
> \--Head On Collision by New Found Glory

Heavily sedated and lying on a makeshift operating table, Brock Samson was currently under the care of one Dr. Billy Whalen. Wait, scratch that. The man was not a doctor, not professionally trained though he knew his way around the human body.

The older man had received quite a blow to his chest area. Various shrapnel had lodged itself deep into his skin from the bomb blast on the front lawn of the compound. Panic surged throughout the area in the moments afterward and it had been difficult to see clearly just what all had occurred really. At least, that's what Billy had been told in the recap by Rusty.

A panicked phone call from the man was what had brought him over for a visit and White had tagged along of course as well. Rusty had informed him of Brock's needed medical attention and the delicate procedure of removing, of all things, his robot's head from the man's chest.

When he and White had arrived, they'd been surprised by the sheer amount of Guild wasps and O.S.I. that drifted throughout the property lines. They were on their way out it seemed, with promises to come back for a thorough cleaning of... the bodies.

How the super scientist had been able to actually get them to leave was beyond the man but then again, when Rusty was dedicated he could usually get people to do whatever he wanted.

White stood over the shorter man's shoulder, watching as he delicately began to procedure to remove H.E.L.P.er's head from Brock's chest. He worked quickly, diligently, wiping the sweat from his brow caused by the warm temperatures and glow of the lamps surrounding them. Rusty was off in the corner watching quietly, a little too quiet. He'd already banned his sons to the upstairs area of the compound, threatening them not to come back down to the lab or else. The last thing he needed was them seeing Brock in this shape.

The cuts on the man's face and neck had already been cleaned and bandaged to stop the bleeding and a steady IV drip had already been hooked up to the man's right arm to give him the fluids he needed to hang on. There was a very small window of time Billy had now to get this done and he had to be absolutely precise with his timing or the hulk of a man could easily bleed out.

Blood. That was another thing that was worrying. Why on earth Rusty didn't just let the O.S.I. take care of this he'd never know. Perhaps, he no longer trusted them. It was clear Brock didn't. But still, they would have been useful when it came to needed medical supplies and you know, blood.

It had turned out that Hank was the only person out of all of them who was actually going to be able to donate the necessary blood. Being type O negative meant Brock would be able to receive the blood transfusion just fine. Billy did a quick calculation in his head as he continued working and determined that they'd better go ahead and get that collected.

“Doc... you're gonna wanna go get that blood from Hank now.” The doctor said over his shoulder, still focusing on his work.

Rusty nodded silently, though only White had turned back to see it. He watched as the scientist swiftly left the room, a nervous look plastered on his features.

When he was sure he was gone, White moved closer to the man. “Is he gonna make it, Billy?”

Concentrating on his work, the man didn't answer at first and then uttered a low, “I don't know.”

…

Rusty had sought out Orpheus' help in keeping Hank calm enough to get the amount of blood they needed. The boy sat in a chair, listening to the necromancer enthrall him with tales of Saint Moses, the Black of Scete. It seemed to be working for the time being, distracting the teen enough so that he wouldn't ask too many questions or freak out over Brock's obvious injuries.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Rusty stood there next to the two listening to the man's stories and keeping a weather eye on the blood collection. You couldn't rush these things but he really needed to get that bag over to Billy. His mind wouldn't let him dwell on the consequences of taking too long.

“Pop? Um... can I go see Brock?” A voice suddenly sounded from behind them.

All three turned their heads to see Dean standing in the doorway of the kitchen where they'd set up shop.

The scientist frowned and took a few steps closer to the teen. “Dean, he's uh... he's recuperating, right now. You boys can't see him just yet.”

“But this blood is for him and you're taking an awful lot of it!” Hank suddenly spoke up, no longer caring about Orpheus' tale. “Doesn't that mean... ?” He didn't finish his question.

Great. This was all he needed.

Rusty turned to face his other son, struggling to set a firm but calm expression on his face. “Hank, you're exaggerating. That isn't that much and no, it's just... precautionary. Brock is fine.”

Orpehus shot the man a grim look, a clear displeased expression before shaking it off to turn to Hank once more. He gave him a kind smile and laid a hand on his unoccupied arm. “Hank, I'm sure everything will be okay. Now, what do you want to hear about next? The time I visited the Osiris Cult or my trip to the Colorado DMV? I assure you neither was a very pleasant experience.”

…

Rusty picked at a bit of the fuzz stuck on the leg of his pink speed suit. He was currently sitting bedside in his room upstairs quietly watching his bodyguard sleep. It was fitful and the bald man was sure that it wasn't as good of quality as the man needed what with the way he kept turning this way and that.

Rusty was quiet as he observed the man in his bed, took in the way the healing cuts on his tanned skin were scattered about. He hated this, hated seeing him this way. But it was better than the alternative, better than losing the man entirely.

Billy had done quite a job on him, even successfully removed H.E.L.P.er's head from his chest and stitched him up quite well. But the injuries the man had sustained were still severe and it would take some time before he would be up and about again.

The man had been heavily sedated while work was being done on him and even after, he'd been unconscious and sleeping for a good few days. Billy had said to expect that and not to worry. The only thing Rusty was worried about was when the bodyguard did wake up, how would he take the news that he was still here, the last place on earth he wanted to be.

It had been clear that this job, their lifestyle, had been wearing on the man for a while now. With the recent events with the O.S.I. seeming to turn on him, Brock had been ready to just hit the road and leave it all behind. Had it not been for the accident, the man surely would have.

It gnawed at the scientist's heart, the way he was just willing to up and leave like that. It hurt, but he supposed, he could kind of understand. After all, he had been very willing to do just that a few years ago when the boys died. Sure, it had been like the fifteenth time or something but it had still burned him in a way he hadn't expected or been prepared to deal with. And Brock had went and retrieved him and brought him back.

Rusty wasn't sure he would be willing to go do the same thing for him.

Just as he was thinking of getting up and heading downstairs, the sight of the man too painful for his sake, Brock began to stir. Two large-pupiled eyes darting around the ceiling and then the room before coming to rest on a nervous looking Rusty. The man blinked repeatedly, obviously confused and probably in a lot of pain come to think of it.

Rusty tried to recall the last dosing of pain meds the man had been given through his IV drip and determined it was about that time. Moving to adjust the line, he was alarmed by the man's large and burly hand coming to slap down and around his arm, gripping him closer to the bed.

“Doc... what are you doing?” He whispered hoarsely, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

The scientist didn't miss a beat however and only wobbled for a moment before catching his balance against the bed. He gently maneuvered his arm out of the man's grasp and readjusted his misaligned glasses.

“I'm giving you some more pain meds, you brute. I assume that's preferable to being in pain?” He said snidely and went about his work once more.

Brock seemed to settle back then, though his mind still raced to try to figure out just how he'd got there. 

When Rusty was done, he sat back down in the computer chair he'd borrowed from the boy's room and waited patiently for the man's inevitable questions.

He didn't need to wait long for Brock's eyes were already searching out his own imploringly. “What happened? Why... why am I here?”

“Oh, you mean in your home? In my bedroom? In my bed I so nicely let you recuperate in?” The man couldn't help but begin to lay into him, still recalling his plans to actually leave them. But he took a moment, a deep breath, shutting his eyes and rubbing the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses. He started again, this time calmer, wanting to put the man at ease. “Brock, there was an explosion. You were hurt. I had Billy fix you.”

The bodyguard immediately tried to sit up from his position only to have the scientist quickly stand and try to, comically, prevent him from moving. He was all 130 pounds soaking wet and intending to stop this hulk like man from leaving? Yeah, unlikely.

“Don't try to get up!” He reprimanded. “You're seriously hurt, Brock! You need rest!”

“Can't stay here... O.S.I.-”

“They've been handled.” The scientist said with a finality to his voice, his arms coming to cross over his chest as he stared down at the man in his care.

“What?” Was all the blonde could utter, giving in due to the pain more than anything and just laying still.

“Yeah I sent them packing. I made sure it was clear we didn't need their services and that if anything should come up, I'd call. But no, they're gone. They won't be bothering us.”

Brock shut his eyes tiredly, trying to piece all the events he could remember together in his head. He liked the way the man had added the 'us' and though it warmed his heart to hear it, he knew deep down the man had no idea what he was even talking about. The O.S.I. didn't take orders from their wards, quite the opposite. 

Opening his eyes once more, he took in the pinched look on the bald man's face and frowned, suddenly feeling very remorseful for the way he'd been acting previously. It must have been hard to get him fixed up, though the man was no slouch himself, it was probably a good call to ask Billy for help.

“Look, Doc, I'm... sorry.” He muttered lowly, trying to keep his eyes open. The medicine was beginning to kick in now, pouring in to his veins from the IV and he was growing drowsy. He pressed on, not wanting to fall back asleep. He had a feeling he'd been asleep for a good, long while now. “I... know what I said-”

“What you said was you were leaving.” Rusty interrupted, arms still crossed over his chest, still standing, towering over the bed.

Brock's guilt bloomed within him and he tried to sit up once more which only caused the scientist to move closer to the bed and perch on the edge of it, gently placing a hand on his shoulder to still him. 

Brock sighed. “Everything was confusing and too much. I'm sorry. I just... I didn't want to keep doing this thing with the O.S.I.” His eyes were beginning to flutter shut on their own now and dammit if he didn't have a fighting chance of staying awake at this point.

“It's okay, Brock. I get it. But you need to rest now. So, I expect you to sleep and recuperate here until you're better. Until Billy signs off on you. Don't worry about anything else now. Just rest.”

His eyes closed and sinking deeper and deeper into the darkness, Brock could have sworn he felt the soft hands of the man gently caressing his forehead. He missed his hair. Had he not shorn it off, the scientist surely would be running his hands through it as well. 

Sleep overtook him though it was fitful and he dreamed of many things though mainly, his family.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brock loves Top Chef, y'all.

Drifting in and out of consciousness, Brock was faintly aware of the comings and goings of other people in the room with him. The warmth and softness of the bed beneath him helped keep him in a lulled sort of state and the IV that was hooked to his veins probably didn't hurt to keep him sedated either.

At some point, the man awakened fully to find Hank and Dean standing beside his bed. He would have flinched back in shock at the rapid but silent appearance of the teens but he was far too sleepy to react much at all.

“Hi Brock!” Hank cheerfully said with a wave. 

Brock blinked at him, still pretty hazy from the morphine. He wondered if his voice worked at all, his throat felt sharp. 

Before he had a chance to even try to respond, Dean was stepping in closer. “Brock, are you like, some sort of superman now? Ya know, because of the explosion and the fire and stuff?”

His mind struggled to wrap his thoughts around the statement, the drugs in his system slowing him down a worrisome amount. He tried to sit up from his position.

Hank glared at his twin. “You dingus, that's not how Superman was created!”

“Yes he was! When his planet exploded!”

“Na-uh!”

“Yah-huh!”

“Na-uh!”

“Yah-huh!”

“Na-uh!”

“Yah-huh!”

“Boys!” Came Rusty's shrill cry from somewhere beyond the bodyguard's vision. He shut his eyes, feeling exhausted from just trying to sit up a bit in the bed. “I told you to let Brock rest!”

When he finally slumped back down and opened his eyes, he saw the super scientist standing beside the two teens with his hands on his hips over his pink speedsuit.

“Now march right out of here!” He pointed towards the hallway.

“Aw man!” The boys synchronized.

Dean began to leave obediently but Hank remained behind, glaring at his father. “But I want to make sure Brock's okay!”

“He's fine!” Rusty tried to placate him but quickly turned back to eye the man in the bed.

Brock took in a deep breath, his mind clearing a bit as he felt pain begin to seep in at his edges. He groaned a bit causing the scientist to quickly turn around and check his IV and then his watch for the time.

Hank bit his lip in worry, just staring at the bodyguard.

Rusty began to shoo him out to the hall with his brother. “You boys need to let Brock rest. You hear me? Out!”

After he'd shut the teens outside and locked the door, he headed back over to the king sized bed. “Is the morphine wearing off?”

Brock took another few deep breaths and just nodded, feeling annoyed and weak and a thousand other emotions running through his veins. He wasn't used to being so... needy.

He watched the man fiddle with the IV drip some and assumed he was adding a bit more to help him relax. He shut his eyes and within just a moment or two, began to feel it kick in.

Something nagged at the back of his mind for him to force his eyes back open, to rip the thing out of his arm and get the fuck out of there. He didn't want to be controlled, didn't like feeling vulnerable.

Still, something else reminded him that he was at home, that he was safe and that while he was hurt, he'd better just focus on getting rest while he could.

He felt the bed dip with the weight of the man sitting beside him. His eyes still shut as he began to feel fatigue set in, Brock felt the tell-tell sensation of the scientist's hand on his shoulder rubbing and caressing the bare skin there.

Before he could contemplate anything more, sleep overtook him.

…

The next morning soon came and Rusty was already busy bustling around his 1970's styled kitchen making breakfast and coffee and trying to clean a little bit along the way. It was barely after 6am now and the man hadn't really slept, not truly but never mind all that, he had work to do!

As he slid the last of the sunny side up eggs on to a plate to join their spot beside slightly burned bacon and not-quite-ready pancakes, Rusty glanced up to see his two sons yawning standing in the entryway. He sighed in frustration. They were such early risers. Damn those beds! He'd have to program them for a later arise time.

"Boys, there's cereal in the cupboard as you well know. I'll be right back." The scientist balanced carrying the plate of food on the tray along with a mug of freshly brewed coffee, only spilling a bit of it.

Hank rubbed at his eyes sleepily and then quickly perked up as his father moved towards him. "Hey! Can I have some bacon?"

"This food is for Brock." Rusty lightly chided. "He's recuperating, you know."

"I know... " Hank pouted as the man headed past the two and up the stairs.

Dean took the opportunity to push past his brother and lunge for the cabinet. "I get the Alpha Dogs!"

"Aw, gyp!"

...

Brock was still asleep as he entered the bedroom which was definitely preferred. The man needed rest in order to heal and even a wounded Brock was not easily overpowered. He didn't want to get the jump on him again like a few times before. The bodyguard had years of training which made him particularly paranoid while asleep. And so, after the man set the food down on the nightstand, Rusty crept backwards towards the door before clearing his throat loudly.

A safe distance.

Brock stirred a bit but didn't awake fully until he began calling his name. The muscular man glanced up at him sleepily and the scientist knew it'd be safe to approach.

"I made you breakfast." Rusty boasted, a big smile playing across his face.

The bodyguard began to sit up slowly in bed and the other sprang in to action, moving the pillows behind him so he could sit fully all the way up.

Brock eyed the tray of food that Rusty placed over his lap suspiciously. He glanced up at the scientist, an unsure look on his face before snatching the mug of coffee from it's place and nearly draining the whole thing.

God, that was good. Days without coffee had caused him to have a massive migraine. He may have a bit of an addiction, come to think of it.

He was feeling better now, mind clearer, pain less overbearing. His chest itched though. He glanced down at the thick bandages and then back up at the man.

"That was good. Got anymore?" His rough and unused voice ground out, speaking for probably the first time in days, much to the man's delight.

"Of course! I'll go get you some more but first, try the pancakes!"

Brock poked at the gooeyness of the so-called pancakes with his fork and pulled a face. Typical. The man usually never cooked because one, he was super lazy and b, probably the most important reason of all, he was absolutely, without a doubt, terrible at it.

His eyes trailed back up to the scientist's momentarily. There was a look of sheer pride and joy displayed across it and the man had been taking care of him the last few days, week? He didn't know how long at this point.

Brock shoved the fork full of pancake in his mouth and forced himself to swallowed it down. It tasted like pure pancake batter.

“I'm glad you have an appetite! That's always a good sign!” Rusty babbled, seemingly full of cheeriness so early in the morning. 

Brock felt like he'd been sleeping forever, his legs feeling numb though that may be spinal column damage. 

His eyes shot back to the scientist, mouth opened and poised to question him about his injuries but the man was too quick for him.

Rusty grabbed the empty mug from the tray and walked over to the TV. Switching it on, he quickly flipped through a few channels before landing on “Top Chef”. He turned and gave him a knowing smile and then left the room. “Be right back!” He said in a sing-song tone.

Brock sat there, staring at the TV, mouth dry from half-cooked pancakes. He glanced down at the rest of the food which didn't seem too bad and dug in.

As he watched the reality show and slowly ate his food, thoughts began to turn over in his mind. 

The foremost of those thoughts being the curious nature of one Rusty Venture. The man seemed to be babying him, something that had never actually occurred between the two of them in the entire history of their twenty year relationship.

It was true, Brock wasn't the babying type, obviously and so, he supposed, that may be why the man had never tried before. He was, after all, in quite the predicament now. He was injured, badly, how badly he didn't know but it must be extreme enough for the scientist to give up his bed, his bedroom and be acting the way he was.

The man had truly never experienced this side of him. Well, that wasn't true, perhaps in the beginning of their relationship, sure, he had seen notes of it. But that was so long ago now.

As he chewed the overcooked and burnt bacon, Brock considered the idea of the man being truly worried for him. Yeah, that was possible, the man was often concerned with his brute force and violence towards henchmen but then, he'd always just assumed it was due to his weak stomach.

The show ended and Brock watched the credits roll by. The remote had been left on the edge of the bed and it took just a bit of effort for him to slowly reach towards it. Using his leg to kind of bat it closer, he finally got it into his hands. Checking the time on the menu told him it was only about 6:30am. Still pretty early.

As he sat and stared down at his half eaten food, Brock considered the idea of a warm and caring Rusty Venture. It wasn't as if the man was particularly cold, far be it for him to judge anyone by that sort of benchmark but over the last few years, the man's warmth had drastically dimmed, especially when it came to the boys. 

Then again, anyone would be changed from such an event. He could hardly blame him.

Feeling a bit full and tired again, the man decided to lean back and just enjoy the attention he was getting. There was nothing wrong with it, right?

Worrisome thoughts about the OSI tried to creep back in to his psyche but he batted them away.

He needed to rest. The man was right. And if he wanted to dote on him, so be it. He'd be happy for the attention.


	3. Chapter 3

“Orpheus, it's 6:30 in the morning! Can we not do this magic shit right now?”

The man had wandered over it seems in the guise of looking for his cat but Rusty knew better.

The necromancer shot the scientist a dark look as his two kids looked on from their seat at the table. “Mr. Venture, I will choose to ignore that remark and simply go about my business but a query before I meander on, are you in need of any... services after what transpired here?”

The super scientist rolled his eyes and set the mug of coffee down on the counter in frustration. “Just what are you talking about?”

The pepper haired man shot a quick glance over to Hank and Dean who were still eating their cereal but staring directly at the two of them. He looked back at Rusty, a grim looked painted across his face. “I just mean... erm, how to phrase this delicately? After the war-like situation that occurred, are you in need of... uhm, a neighborly ear to speak to?”

Rusty glanced at his sons and flicked his eyes back to the necromancer's. He knew what he was getting at. “No, I think we're all fine here. But uh... thank you, I guess.” 

Orpheus smiled, relieved that the slaughtering of the clones hadn't seemed to have an effect on the man's boys. And as for Rusty, he should have known better. Even if he were tortured by the very thought of them, confiding in him would be the last thing the scientist would do. Still, it was the thought that counts.

“Well, I'm off to look for Simba. Perhaps, I'll try the manufacturing wing. She always seems to like to hide there, the little scamp!”

The Ventures watched the man leave, Rusty looking contemplative as he leaned against the kitchen counter, just staring off into the distance.

“Pop?” Dean queried. “You alright?”

His eyes hazy, he soon snapped back to reality and straightened a little. “Oh yes, just fine, boys! Oh, I uh, better get this coffee up to your bodyguard.”

Rusty quickly carried the mug of now lukewarm black coffee out of the kitchen and over towards the stairs. The twins shot each other a look but continued eating quietly.

…

Sitting there in bed, growing more and more bored by the second, Brock let his eyes roam from the TV set to the far window in the corner. It was barely letting in the first few rays of sunlight as a new day began.

The man had finished his food, well, everything except for the pancakes that is. He was sick of waiting on this coffee that seemed was never going to come. The bodyguard knew that the man was just trying to keep him stationary, sedentary for his own good but dammit, he was fine! He could go get his own damn coffee!

Thinking back over the last few weeks, the hoops he'd had to jump through with the OSI and thinking that people were out to get him, it was all so... exhausting. 

Brock was beginning to think this whole cat-and-mouse thing with The Guild was stupid as well and he was getting really tired of all the BS that came with this life that the scientist had chosen. 

From secret Guilds to secrets kept within Rusty's own family from his father and the rest of Team Venture down, Brock was more than ready to just move on from all of the drama. And least, he had been, until the accident.

Wiggling his toes beneath the warm covers, Brock slowly tried to pick up on the sensations of each of his nerve endings to check for signs of life. He could definitely feel everything so no permanent damage at least.

Moving his legs a bit, he tried to get some blood moving down them more so he could do away with the numbing sensations he'd been feeling.

He needed to rest, what with what happened. Still, despite Rusty assuring him he had in fact “taken care” of the OSI, the man knew deep inside that they'd be back to knock on their door soon enough. And when that day came, he had to be rested up and ready to face whatever repercussions faced them now.

The condensation on the window of the medium sized bedroom was the main focal point Brock found himself staring at as he lay there in bed. It had been a few days now of him recuperating at home, barred from being allowed to roam freely of his own volition. He was to stay in bed, "doctor's" orders and be waited on hand and foot by his family, was he?

Brock shook his head, switching off the TV with the remote.

Rusty Venture was a stubborn man and when he wanted things a certain way, it was hard to argue. Brock however, was also a skilled debater and decided he would not be taking this lying down, literally. 

'You were in an explosion!' He imagined him arguing, being his ever over dramatic self.

He wasn't in an explosion. There was an explosion and shrapnel had hit him. At least, that was what he'd been able to piece together from bits of his memory though even that was iffy. He needed to get downstairs at some point to view the security cams, that was of course if the ornery man would let him near the things.

Brock kicked off the heavy covers pinning his legs down and slowly maneuvered over towards the edge of the bed, letting his legs hang over the side for a moment. He took a few deep breaths in and out, trying to ready himself to begin moving about.

"Brock!" Came the scientist's shrill cry. Great.

The bodyguard looked over towards the door and saw Rusty standing there, coffee in hand, looking displeased. "Yeah, what?"

"You're supposed to stay in bed! What are you doing?" Rusty asked, coming to stand beside him as if to block his path somehow.

Brock stared up at him, a small smile coming to rest on his face at the man's actions. "I gotta piss." He said by way of explanation, grabbing the coffee and chugging it down. Gross. It was nearly cold.

The bespectacled man seemed to consider the statement as Brock shoved the empty mug back into his hands before shrugging and stepping aside as if to let the man pass. "Fine. But be careful. You don't want your stitches coming undone." He lectured.

Rusty watched him quietly get up and make his way into the bathroom. He sighed to himself at the sight of him wincing in pain as he maneuvered over and shut the door to do his business.

After he returned, Brock shot the man a look, uttering a gruff, "What?"

Rusty crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged. "Oh nothing, just standing here thinking, 'Why do I bother?'. After all, no matter how much care and dedication I try to show you, you just ignore me and do what you want. Mr. Big and Strong Man here, he doesn't feel pain or need help, ever!"

Brock scoffed in irritation. "What do ya want me to do? You want to help me to the bathroom? Is that it? Jesus! I can move about even with the stitches! And I think I know a little more than you about 'em. I've had more injuries than you have, okay?"

A deep breath in through the scientist's nostrils and a huff of air being let out sounded from the lanky man. It began to rain outside with large droplets of water just cascading down the window pane.

Brock shuffled over to the man to show he was steady enough to walk around and smiled down at him, feeling actually touched by his concern. After all, he hadn't felt very appreciated as of late which honestly was exactly why he had been intent on leaving before.

"Thanks for your concern though." Brock said and let a hand come to rest down on the man's shoulder, just resting there gently.

Rusty seemed to lose all vinegar then and soon he found himself smiling up at him involuntarily. He adjusted his glasses bashfully. "W-well, you're welcome. I just... I don't want you to get hurt again. More. Hurt more."

Brock's smile widened and he turned on his heel, knowing he'd won. He was almost completely out of the room and out into the hall before Rusty noticed.

"H-hey, wait!" The man wailed from behind.

As the injured man shuffled down the hall towards the stairs, he could hear the scientist quickly following behind him, nervously sputtering something he didn't care to pay attention to.

When he reached the kitchen, he was met with Hank and Dean's surprised faces staring up at him from their empty cereal bowls.

"Brock! You're okay!" Hank cried, jumping up as he prepared to launch himself at the man for a hug.

Just then, Rusty swooped in from the stairs to block the boy lest he do any damage. "Hank! Be careful! Your bodyguard is still healing. You have to be gentle."

The bodyguard gave the boy a small smile and reached out to ruffle his blonde hair. "Aw, c'mon Hank, you knew I'd be okay, didn't ya?"

"Of course!"

Dean wandered over and smiled up at the man. "I'm glad you're okay, Brock. Does it... does it hurt?" He asked, pointing gingerly at the man's bare chest and the heavy bandaging that was there.

"Nah." The man shrugged. "It's like a mild burning sensation. I've had worse."

Rusty looked up worriedly at the man's face, knowing he was bluffing. "Okay, well that's enough activity for now. Back to that bed, mister!"

Brock laughed and then said darkly, "You're kidding, right?"

The two teens looked at each other and gulped but Rusty put his hands on his hips and glared up at the man. "Don't think I bandaged you up just for you to pop your stitches back open!"

"I thought Billy bandaged me up?"

"Yes! And I paid Billy!"

"No, ya didn't."

"No I didn't but... he owed me a favor so... it's only fair."

Brock stopped arguing, knowing the man's specific crazy was nothing to fight against. He turned back to the boys. "Alright boys, so catch me up, what did I miss?”

Hank sort of elbowed Dean out of the way in order to bask fully in his idol's attention. “Well, so those guys came and cleaned up all the dead bodies, right? And they were all gooey and gross looking! Ew! Yuck! We saw them totally get ripped shred to shred-”

“Okay, Hank! Thanks! That's... that's enough of that.” Rusty interrupted, motioning for the boy to go back to the table as Brock's expression began to grow irritated. He chuckled nervously as he glanced up at him.

“Can I talk to you for a moment?” The man growled out and shuffled over to the living room without waiting for a response.

Rusty followed the man out, knowing full well he would have to deal with the aftermath of the clones slaughtering eventually. He'd had no idea it would be this soon however.

“Okay, look, whatever you're about to say, I want you to know, I agree!” 

Brock glared at him. “Really? So you agree with me that letting that sad, pathetic, mid-life crisis motherfucker Hatred in the compound was idiotic?!”

“Uh... well, yes-”

“And you agree with me that losing those clones of the boys was the biggest mistake you've possibly ever made?!”

Rusty glanced back at the kitchen, knowing full well the teens were listening in. He turned back to the bodyguard and tried to placate him. “Look, Brock, no one could have seen that happening, okay? That fucking lunatic Monarch is the reason they're gone, okay? Not because of me!”

Brock ran a hand over his face and sighed. No, this wasn't the man's fault. This was his. If only he'd been paying more attention, been more careful and not overreacted, none of it would have happened. He stepped back around the corner to peek over at the boys who had in fact been listening and who jostled their bowls on the table when they'd noticed he'd noticed them. They both quickly got up and rushed to take their bowls to the sink in an effort to pretend they hadn't been eavesdropping. 

Brock looked back at Rusty who looked guilty and was growing more and more tense and anxious by the second. He almost looked like he wanted to cry.

Alarmed, the man rested a hand on his tense shoulder in an effort to calm him down. “Look, what's done is done. I don't know whose fault it is really, I mean, like... isn't it everyone's kinda? The point is, we just have to decide where to go from here.”

That seemed to loosen whatever stress had been building up inside the man and he calmed down a bit.

Brock shuffled over towards the couch as if to sit down, then thought better of it and turned back towards the stairs. “I'm gonna take a shower.” He said, barely looking back at the scientist. “Lying in that bed for who knows how long was gross.”

Rusty said nothing from behind him and when he turned to glance back at him, he couldn't help but notice the way he looked so small and worried.

“You alright?” Brock muttered gruffly, never much for an emotional display or particularly good at comforting.

The scientist nodded at him and then turned to slowly walk back in the kitchen towards the boys.

He didn't really know what was eating at the man though he had a few guesses. He'd have to deal with that later. For now, he had his own shit to deal with.

He had to figure out where to go from here.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trippin' out  
> Spinnin' around  
> I'm underground, I fell down  
> Yeah, I fell down
> 
> I'm freakin' out  
> So where am I now  
> Upside down  
> And I can't stop it now  
> It can't stop me now
> 
> I'll get by  
> I'll survive  
> When the world's crashing down  
> When I fall and hit the ground  
> I will turn myself around  
> Don't you try to stop me  
> \--Alice by Avril Lavigne

The feeling of the warm water from the shower head above him was welcoming to his tired and sore muscles. They were barely used from his extensive bed rest and needed stretching out as painful as it was. The warmth of the shower was helping to alleviate some of the pain.

Brock ran his hand over his now clean shaven head and wished he still had his long locks of golden blonde hair instead. It was silly to be so attached to something superficial like hair but he felt it was a bit of a trademark for him. It was one of the things he prided himself on. Hopefully, it'd grow back soon.

Standing there in the shower, he let his thoughts roam over what to do next. The OSI would be pounding down their door sooner than later and he had to deal with that, no matter what Doc said.

His thoughts turned to Hunter and how he may be of help in some way. Still, the man seemed to not want anything to do with his former life. He was... happy and that was the way it should stay. Best not to interfere with his life anymore.

Brock thought about the boys and how their protection, their “safety net” was gone. God, how it ate away at him. He took a few breaths in and out, willing the fear and anxiety back down within him.

He shook his head of the thoughts of them being in danger. He just needed to do a better job of protecting them now. After all, for a long time, he'd never even been a fan of those things.

When the man had first showed them off, showed him the cloning lab, he'd been taken back and... well, horrified really. What kind of a man cloned their offspring?

And then, the worst thing in the world had happened to them. The boys had been killed by some lunatic in a costume. Who could have seen it coming?

Brock had snapped the man's neck then and there, no hesitation. The OSI had been taken back but quickly covered it up no questions asked. It was just sheer luck that the man had no family or friends or whatever so The Guild had never come calling after him.

Who knows? Maybe he was just a one-off dude with no affiliations. Maybe he was just a sociopath with a penchant for little kids? Did it really matter?

Brock had never dealt with death like that before. Well, not when it came to someone so close to him. The accident in college had occurred only a handful of years before that but he had long since moved past that time in his life. The irony that he would still be hanging around with the same guy since his college days had not been lost on him.

Rusty was... inconsolable. Even with the clones in the tanks, the man was uncommunicative, refused to eat, refused to do much of anything really. It had nearly broke him.

A little time passed, too much really and Brock had finally grown impatient. He'd resolved to shake the man out of his stupor, out of his grief and depression and remind him of who he was and what he could do. He wasn't someone that just gave up when things got hard.

He'd successfully shaken him out of it and together they'd brought the boys “back to life” as it were. 

Maybe Brock would have still been more against the idea of clones had he up and left prior to the boys' death. Maybe he'd be more aligned with the OSI and most of humanity's stance on it. But until you experience death of a family member, of a kid... you have no idea how you'll react in that situation. It's sobering to say the least.

Turning off the faucet, Brock watched as the final droplets of water poured out of the shower head above him before stopping entirely. He slid the curtain to the side and stepped over the tub to grab his bath towel hanging on the rack.

Wrapping the pink towel around his waist, the man stared at his reflection in the steamy mirror. It was fuzzy and hard to see so he wiped a bit of the moisture away with his hand.

The images of the boys' dead bodies when they were only six years old still danced around in his head. They had been out there in the front yard near the fence, he could remember their exact fallen positions.

He shook his head of the painful memories. New images appeared of the boys' clones out on the so-called battlefield out front on their lawn, mixed in with The Monarch's henchman and OSI soldiers. Their images still stinging just as sharply with a pain deep down within his chest.

He let out a long sigh, hanging his head and shutting his eyes in exhaustion. What was more was the pain creeping back in starting from his shoulders and moving down into his pectoral muscles. He had been up for too long. He needed to get back to bed for rest.

…

It was dim in the lab as Brock made his way around the corner, unsure if the man was even down here but having checked everywhere else, this was the only place he could be. Well, that or the panic room really.

About to call out his name, the bodyguard hesitated as he noticed the man sitting in a chair just... staring.

There were barely any lights on around him and so the green of the tanks surrounding the scientist painted him in an eerie but also somewhat gentle lighting. Brock decided to just watch him for a moment.

There was a silence in the room, the boys knowing better than to be down here after being scolding too many times to stay away. The only sound seemed to emanate from the tanks themselves, a light buzzing noise surrounding them.

Brock leaned against the door frame, wondering just what was going through the man's mind. Perhaps, he really was upset about the situation. After all, it was a real concern. The boys were no longer protected. At least, their copies were gone which meant if something happened, they couldn't be brought back again.

It was less protection for the boys he supposed and more protection for the two of them at this point. It was protection against feeling the hurt and sadness and awful pain of loss. It was something the super scientist had already dealt enough with. 

Biting his lip, Brock finally decided to make his presence known. It was clear the man was too in his own head to notice anything himself. “Hey uh... Doc?”

Rusty had been sitting with his back to him and so the only indication that he'd heard the man came when he noticed his shoulders kind of straighten up as if he was sitting up a little bit more than before. He still didn't turn around and his voice sounded wet and quiet. “Yes... ?”

Brock swallowed nervously, knowing his stern talk with him earlier couldn't have affected him well. He sighed and stepped forward to come around to force the man to look at him.

The man averted his gaze down to Brock's thick, white athletic socks he always wore when wandering around the house. His feet got far too cold to wander around barefoot.

“Doc... look, I'm sorry.”

That got the man's gaze to focus back on him at least. The surprise etched across it was almost enough to make him chuckle, almost.

Rusty played his surprise off and shrugged, standing up from his seat and getting ready to leave the lab. “For what? Look, you're... stressed and-”

“No, listen. I got upset... hell, I am upset about the boys' clones bein' gone and I... I don't know what to do with that.”

Staring at the door to the rest of the house, Rusty searched for his next words. “You know what I've been doing? Just sitting down here?”

“What?”

The bespectacled man turned around to face him again and adjusted his glasses, a wry smile playing on his face. “I was wondering if I should even start the cloning up again or not. I was thinking... is it really fair to keep cheating death like that? Especially when it's all my fault-”

“It's not your fault.” Brock interrupted, voice booming firmly as he stepped closer to the shorter man. Then softer. “It's not.”

Rusty frowned and looked up into the man's eyes. They quickly flicked down to the tight, white tank top the man had thrown on and roamed over his chest and muscles, wondering if the man was still in pain. Before he could open his mouth to switch the topic, the bodyguard stepped even closer, hands coming to rest on both of his shoulders gently as he peered down at him.

Words escaped him as his mind struggled to formulate something to say as Brock continued to stare down at him.

Thoughts cascading through the bodyguard's own mind, questions of “what if's” and other theories of “what could be's”. Finally and almost without thinking, he leaned down and kissed the man firmly on the mouth.

He didn't know why. Was it because of comforting, the way the man's eyes looked watery and unsure? Was it because he'd almost died and now felt more alive than he ever had? 

Or maybe it was just the soft lighting of the lab, the ambiance of the near-silence, the comfort of being injured and uncomfortable and yet feeling safe in his own home.

Brock didn't know why he was kissing him but the man seemed to move immediately closer against him, running his own hands up and around his broad shoulders to kiss him back. And so he deepened the kiss, his hands moving slightly to grip the fabric of the man's salmon colored speedsuit. As they began moving, Brock walking Rusty backwards a bit trying to find a wall, they came to a halt clashing against one of the fluid tanks, jostling the liquid inside and nearly knocking the thing over.

It was enough to make the two break apart with a start and they both held their breath as the thing rattled but miraculously did not fall.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Rusty turned to gape at the bodyguard's actions. “Uh... so... “ He nervously grappled with his vocabulary. He smiled up at the man, wanting to say a thousand things and trying but failing to say any of them. Finally, “Even if it's not my fault, who's to say that continuing this cloning thing is the right thing to do?”

Brock stared at the scientist, thinking hard about what they were really talking about here. The pain that had been blooming around his chest wound was getting a bit too hard to ignore at this point though he had been doing his best. The kiss had been enough to distract him temporarily. He wanted to get back to that but he should probably be taking it easy.

“Look, we don't have to decide anything right now. We'll... we should talk about it. Later.”

Rusty looked unsure but nodded, eyes trailing back to the empty tanks that filled the room before a thought occurred to him. He jerked back to look at the man's slowly slumping posture with alarm. “Oh my god, you need to get back to bed!”

Cocking an eyebrow at the statement, the blonde couldn't help the smirk that took over his face in response. 

“Not-Not like that! I meant... because of your chest!” Rusty stuttered, turning a little red from what the man assumed was embarrassment.

He laughed as the scientist came to try to shoo the man towards the door. “What are you doin'?”

“I mean it, mister! You gotta... you need to rest!”

Laughing harder, he felt the pain in his chest intensify at the motion though he couldn't help himself at the sight of the much smaller man trying to persuade him to do anything.

“BROCK!” The man's nasally voice echoed around the lab.

“Alright, alright... I'll give ya... lying on the living room couch for... I dunno... three hours?” He bargained as they slowly made their way to the exit.

“No! You need to be in bed!”

“What's the difference?”

“Brock... “

“How about lying on the living room couch for half an hour and then I go get food somewhere?”

“Fine... three hours then. And then to bed!”

Brock's laughter echoed throughout the lab.

“That's not what I meant!”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am actively taking fanfic commissions for basically any and all fandoms. If you'd like to commission me for a fic let me know! I'm up for anything. Tumblr handle is also ladyofdecember! Or you can check out my ko-fi page which is ladyofdecember. <3

They sat at the dinner table, each devouring their food quickly, ravenously as if they hadn't eaten in days. Well, in Brock's case, this rang rather true but their boys were well fed.

Rusty put down his fork in irritation. "Boys! Chew and swallow, don't just gobble it down whole!"

Hank smiled around his mouthful of macaroni and cheese. "I can't help it, Pop! It's so good!" He mumbled causing the man to roll his eyes.

Dean took the time to swallow his bite before speaking. "So Brock, are ya gonna be going back to the OSI again soon or... or something?”

The man shrugged, finishing off his plate in record speed. "Dunno about that yet. Probably still need to rest up for a few more weeks before I get back up to speed. Then... I dunno. Maybe."

Rusty opened his mouth to speak up in protest when his oldest son beat him to it.

"Pop, are you gonna fix H.E.L.P.er?" He asked, turning doe-like eyes on his father.

Rusty blinked, completely forgetting what he was going to say. "Fix him? Oh, uh, I suppose I can do something for him."

"Yeah! Right now he's just a head! That's cool an' all but he probably wants to, ya know, move around." Hank shrugged.

“Alright, alright. You're right. I guess I'll figure something out.”

There was a lull in conversation for a moment as the sound of forks scraping against plates filled the air.

The sound of Brock's chair scraping against the kitchen floor echoed about as he slowly came to stand and carried his plate to the sink. “Well, I'm gonna go for a run.”

Rusty gaped at the man as he began heading towards his room for a change of clothes. “Wh-what?! Brock! You can't!”

“And just why not?”

“B-because... you're still hurt.”

The blonde shot him a smile, touched by the man's concern once again. “I'll be fine. Trust me. I know how to take it easy. Just a loop around the compound. Real quick.”

He disappeared down the hall and Rusty's gaze sunk down to his plate of macaroni and cheese.

“It's good mac n' cheese, Pop!” Hank said, mouthful of food and completely oblivious to his father's sudden change in mood.

“Thanks Hank... “ He muttered, giving him a small, sad smile. 

...

After several weeks of Brock trying to get back to his regular speed, weeks of jogging around the inside of the compound and subjecting himself to lots of macaroni and cheese made by Rusty, the man was finally beginning to feel a bit better. He had decided he needed to at least take back over the cooking duties for the house, you know, unless they wanted to keep up this mac n' cheese diet.

The burning sensation he'd felt in his chest was finally beginning to diminish and he had drastically slashed the amount of pain medication he'd been taking each day. He was finally feeling like his old self once again and that left only one problem, the question of what to do about the OSI.

The bodyguard had been putting off the conversation, the inevitable talk about what he should do next. He wasn't even sure he wanted to continue working with the organization but what else was he supposed to do?

In addition, sitting around the house not doing anything more than shuffle from one TV to the next was driving him just a bit insane. He'd do anything for some news of the outside but Rusty had hidden his phone and tablet. Cute.

Brock glanced up from the sitcom he was watching to see Rusty enter the room, a smug smirk playing across his face. “What are you smilin' about?”

“I have fixed H.E.L.P.er!” He proudly announced, pressing a button on a remote control he held.

Alarmingly, H.E.L.P.er's beeps sounded distantly growing ever clearer as the seconds ticked by until the loud sounds of smashing began to overpower it. 

Brock leapt to his feet, ready for just about anything as the robot soon appeared from many rooms away, having smashed through the walls in order to appear before them.

Rusty glanced at the robot, who was now rebuilt as a “walking eye” complete with spider legs and everything. “Oh... right. Probably shouldn't have called him from in here.”

“What the fuck... “ Brock muttered, shaking his head.

…

One particularly chilly morning, there was a disturbance at the front gate which wouldn't have been such a big deal if it had remained on the outside of their fence.

No, instead, by the time Brock had made his way to the front door, a large black hawk helicopter had set down right there on the lawn next to the statue of Rusty and Jonas. The blonde was rushing out to meet whoever dared to disturb them with the super scientist hot on his heels.

Brock stopped short as he realized the man climbing out of said helicopter was Hunter Gathers, deciding less voluptuous this time and dressed head to toe in some brown and yellow attire, a sure indicator of SPHINX by the look of it. But that didn't make any sense.

The bodyguard glared at the man, confused and completely on edge now that the man was walking nearer and nearer to him, followed by a few other men as well.

"This family is under the protection of me, not the OSI! Me!" Brock snarled, unsure of what to think of this sudden invasion by the men. He panted, his nostrils flaring and his blood feeling like it was going to boil. The dull ache in his chest was driving him crazy though his high heart rate sure wasn't helping either. Behind him Rusty had paused at the front door, unsure if he should step out any further into the yard and so there he hung back.

Brock looked Hunter over. The last time he'd saw the man, he could have sworn he was out of this whole OSI game and now here he was dressed in some SPHINX uniform?!

“What the hell is going on?!” The man yelled, rage beginning to fill him.

“Calm your bippy, bucko! No one's here to attack you or your... assignment. And I'm damn sure not with the goddamned OSI!” Hunter sniped, hands on his hips as he stopped just in front of him.

He glanced at the two men behind him and waved them away, waiting until they headed back to the helicopter to continue. “Listen, I get it, you had the wool pulled over yer eyes, but listen here, I need your help.”

Brock stood gaping at the man, eyeing him up and down as he began to relax a little and drop his guard. He chuckled. “Just what are you dressed in? That old SPHINX crap?”

“Exactly that! That's why I need your help. I need your killer instinct, your know-how, your wit! I need that beautiful, blonde, beefcake body to help me build a team we can be proud of! Not like those damn OSI hippies!”

Staring at the man now, dressed so differently from his attire at the local strip club, Brock was sure he was in some sort of narcotics dream. Maybe Doc had slipped him a few extra?

Running a hand over his face, the bodyguard took a deep breath and tried again. “Where are yer boobs? And... and... why are ya dressed like that? We gonna hunt down some leftover SPHINX agents or somethin'?”

“Close! We are SPHINX agents now!”

There was a silence between them before Brock uttered a loud, “What?!”


End file.
